The Mammoth Book of Time Travel Romance by Trisha Telep Read Free Book Online Page B

the lads to silence and smiling at him asked, “How far is it to Edinburgh?”
    Sarah stood atop MacDuff’s watchtower and stared in utter disbelief at the small stone and wood fortress perched atop the huge stone promontory she knew as Castle Rock, upon which should have bristled formidable Edinburgh Castle. There was no city – old or new – no church spires, no anything but forest for miles and miles around her. Mouth dry, she stammered, “Wh … what year is this?”
    At her side, Hamish MacDuff shrugged.
    Deep breath, Sarah.
    OK. If all she feared was true – that she wasn’t simply trapped in a ghastly dream but they’d truly time travelled – then the powerfully built giant at her side probably didn’t have a concept of time beyond the passing of seasons. “Do you know who lives there?”
    “Aye. The Malcolm.”
    Her heart nearly stopped at the mention of the eleventh-century kings.
    “After the Norman war, the ravages of which ye can still spy yon,” he pointed to the blackened timber poking up through new growth, “Malcolm became ruler of this territory.”
    Oh God. Lonely as she’d been of late she could well imagine herself concocting a dream about a beautiful glen and a handsome Highlander, but she seriously doubted she’d have included an explosion, nearly drowning and five rambunctious, pampered students. Which made all before her that much more frightening … and real. “Do you know the way there?”
    Logic dictated that if – and she would only concede if – they’d time travelled then they’d have to get back to where they’d entered the time warp in order to return to the twenty-first century.
    “Aye, but I shan’t advise you go.” He started down the spiral steps he’d made by imbedding thick half-timbers at ninety-degree angles to the stones that made up his tower.
    Grabbing what purchase she could on the ragged stones, she chased after him. “Why not?”
    He stopped two steps below her and turned, his long broad sword sheathed in a simple leather scabbard strapped to his back scraping stone. Standing at eye level, he frowned as he studied her.
    God, he’s magnificent.
    Standing well over six feet tall, heavily muscled, blue eyed and blond, he wasn’t handsome in the classic sense, but definitely arresting. His chiselled features were almost gaunt. And that scar running from his left cheekbone to his jaw. The wound hadn’t been stitched but had healed on its own, drawing the left corner of his lips up, giving him a permanent smirk. As if he knew a secret he wasn’t about to tell.
    He fingered one of the curls draped around her shoulders, startling her. “Ye are most fair and fulsome, lass. Without a clansman to guard ye, ye’ll be harassed, if not claimed. Ye and yer bairns.”
    Had he just called her pretty? She couldn’t be sure. Chaucer and his ilk’s writings hadn’t been her strong suit in college. “But we wouldn’t be alone. You’ll be with us.”
    Left to her own devices within the dense woods below, bracketed by hills and ravines, she’d lose her bearings. He had to guide them.
    He started down the steps again, his broad shoulders rolling with each step. “Nay, I shan’t.”
    As they stepped into sunshine she grabbed his thick forearm bringing him to a halt. “Why not?”
    His right hand covered hers. “Look at me, mistress. ’Tis obvious I’m a warrior. Should I be caught I’ll be forced to my knees and they’ll demand I swear fealty to Malcolm … or die.”
    “Is he your enemy?”
    “Kith but I’ll slit my throat before swearing fealty to another errant hedge-born mammon.”
    She shook her head. “I don’t understand. If he’s kith, a friend—”
    “Mistress, unbridled avarice has nay friends. I – and thousands more – lost all we held dear thanks to one such liege. I say never again.”
    Good Lord. “Do you never go to Edinburgh then?”
    “I go on rare occasion. But only whilst in the guise of a leper to keep them at bay.”